Kissing Judas
by Thess
Summary: He was a true disciple of Judas and betrayed his Master to death. Now excommunicated, Alexander Anderson must learn to live among the members of the Hellsing Organisation. Alternative pairings warning. Manga Set.
1. No Straw to Hang Him

Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to Kouta Hirano.

Author's Notes: Set after the war, spoilers up volume 8, chapter 4 (chapter 61). Possible AU warning. There will be alternative ships (and one traditional) inside this story but by all means, the romance isn't the plot, just a spice. I thank kelles for editing this.

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**Kissing Judas **  
_"I am an assassin, one who has embraced the ways of Judas Iscariot. For my sins, when the time comes, I will cast the thirty pieces of silver into the temple and hang myself with the halter of straw."_  
(Section XIII in volume six, chapter four, _Hellsing_).

**Chapter One  
- No Straw to Hang Him**

The Inquisition had been kept private and brief; the room composed of only a single long table. At one extreme end the Inquisitor was seated, at the other end Anderson, and between them, the participants and witnesses. Only a handful had spoken on his defence, including Wolfe Heinkel. She was wearing a nun's cloth for a change; it was one of the rules she had to assimilate to be called as witness. A formality Anderson disliked.

"Father Anderson is a servant of God," Wolfe had spoken to the Dominical Inquisitor, an aged Italian Cardinal who had never been fond of any of those in Section XIII. He was old enough to have been around during World War Two, he wondered if he had sided with the Third Reich. "You cannot judge him for his behaviour. Nor any of the members of Section XIII, you simply don't understand, Monsignor."

"On the contrary, Sister," he had replied, glancing briefly at his direction. Anderson had kept himself in a straight position, head high, unashamed by his so called sins. "Even your demon spawn section can be taken to the Inquisition as you can see. Otherwise, how did he judge if the late Archbishop Maxwell was worthy of living or not?"

"Father Anderson did that he thought was right, Monsignor."

"And he knew the consequences of those acts, did he not? In previous declarations, one of your partners told us that he was warned about this by even yourself, Sister Heinkel. The fact he allied himself with demonic minions to end Archbishop Maxwell's life."

Heinkel's gaze fell to the ground; she had assented with a mere nod of her head. The room had become eerily quiet as the Cardinal observed Father Anderson through his spectacles. The tension in the air had been clear; he could smell the odour of sweat spreading inside the room.

"Father Anderson, stand up." Anderson had complied immediately. "This is the proper time for a Confession of these sins to me."

"I have already confessed my faults, Monsignor. I can't be absolved of those which I am not repentant," Anderson answered, fully aware that those words would decide his fate in this trial.

"You are not cooperating in this, Father, therefore I don't have another choice," the Inquisitor had risen himself from his seat. "By the power given to me from his Sanctity, the Pontiff John Paul the Second, I condemn you, Father Alexander Anderson, to Excommunication for the offences of schism, alliance with heretics and possible force against the Pope himself."

Wolfe had stood up, protesting, "That's unfair! He didn't put in peril, His Holiness' life!"

"Sit down, Sister lest you shall be judged next," the Cardinal had warned gravely. "Archbishop Maxwell was acting under the Pontiff's commands, to have aided in his murder was a direct strike against the Pope himself. Sit down, Sister, I won't repeat myself." Anderson had glanced at Wolfe, inclining his head in gratitude. Her jaw had been tensed, teeth had gritted but she did as the Inquisitor had said. Clearing his throat, the Inquisitor continued, "The penalty shall be carried out immediately by the Pontiff himself."

Excommunication.

The word still lingered inside his mind even after that fateful Inquisition, even after the Pope himself damned him to a lifetime outside the Church until he sought their forgiveness. But how do you say that you were sorry when you did not think that what you did was wrong? No more wrong than destroying the heretics and monsters he had been assigned for in previous missions.

Excommunication.

The consequences that simple term haunted his remaining time inside the dark murky cell he had been thrown into. How could something so ugly exist in the Holy See, where everything was stunning and glorious? He gathered that the cell was like him, like all Section XIII, it was ugly to the rest of them, therefore they feigned it did not exist. Anderson was alone with nothing to read or do. They had been taken away even his Bible. How could a member of the clergy be without one? He was limited to lounge on his padded bed and stared at his gloves. His eyes travelled to the bars and the security or lack thereof.

There were only two Swiss Guards outside, armed and skilled but if he wanted to escape, he had no resistance to face him. Anderson's eyes narrowed. Perhaps it was a test of sorts, the Vatican was not stupid, and they knew exactly what weapon they had created. He forced himself to remain still and refrained from trying anything hasty. His circumstances were foul but the thought of spending the rest of his life being hunted down by his former companions was not comforting.

Excommunication.

The deepest shame for a servant of the Lord. He always gathered his end would be different, that he would die on a suicide mission or that he would fall for his own hand if he offended the Church. His hands were empty now, he did not grasp thirty pieces of silver… There was no halter made of straw to hang him anymore, just he in a cold dungeon and a long wait before him.

_Click._ There was a metallic noise and Anderson looked up, watching Sister Heinkel enter into the cell with a blank face. She hid her gaze very well behind the shades. "Sister."

Wolfe took a seat on the sole chair inside his quarters. She sat carefully, the state of the furniture was dreadful and cracked slightly to support her weight. "Alexander," she greeted with a nod.

No Father Anderson, no Paladin. Just Alexander Anderson. He grimaced. Excommunication. He could not participate in the Sacraments anymore, even the Holy Orders, his priesthood was gone. His heart pounded faster to that revelation, the real punishment had just started. "How is everything out there?"

"We are barely surviving. Section XIII was blamed by the failure of the Ninth Crusade and the Vatican low reputation across the world. They brought that upon themselves but it easier to use us as scapegoats, I suppose, " Heinkel replied, her lips were twitching, her tone was soaked in bitterness. The woman would never be the same, he gathered, not since Sister Yumiko Takagi went missing after the war. Most thought her dead even if they never found her body, but Heinkel did not lose hope of finding her again. "I am sorry I couldn't visit you before, Alexander. I wasn't allowed."

"What about my orphanage?" The children, they worried him. They were innocent and feared that they would suffer along with him. "Do you know about St. Luke?"

"Father Renaldo is taking care of that, Alexander," Heinkel assured him with a forced smile. "I think he has forgiven us for Maxwell but he is not willing to speak his mind yet."

Renaldo, certainly, the elderly priest had considered Maxwell like a son, ill gotten one but a child nonetheless. "Have faith, Sister, one day all this will be solved."

"It wasn't your fault, I told him," Heinkel added in a fervent tone, not listening to his words. "It was that heretic witch. I told him you were under her spell, she manipulated us, you, me, everyone! Like she does with her pet monsters!"

Anderson moved with alacrity from his bed to Heinkel's side. His expression had darkened, eyes narrowed as he glared down the nun. "Do _not_ insult her in my presence," he warned, "She's the least guilty of us all." His expression softened after uttering that, his hands were shaking. He had nearly lost control, he had almost attacked Wolfe for insulting the Protestant? He forced himself down on the bed again, his head down, sweating like an animal, and it was a similar reaction to the undead.

"See how she affects you?" Heinkel pointed out, not accusing, just sad. There was sorrow on her voice. It was strange, she usually collected her emotions to speak. "And now she's taking you away from us."

The gates opened again, the Cardinal that was his Inquisitor entered. "Rise Alexander Anderson. You are a free man," he indicated, gesturing outside the cell. "Under the conditions of the truce of Midian with the Anglican Church to cease the holy war once and for all," he continued. "Your freedom was requested."

"We were losing," Heinkel snorted sourly. "The world is against us now."

"Free…" Anderson trailed off in disbelief, he stared agape to the people inside his dungeon – Heinkel, the Cardinal, the two guards. He was at loss. "Where I am supposed to go?" he wondered aloud. He had no money or family alive. And he used to be a priest working for the Vatican, he gathered, from what Wolfe said, they were not welcomed in society.

"I believe I have a spare room for you, Paladin," a female voice pointed out behind the Swiss Guards. His heart skipped a beat when the soldiers opened a path for Integral Hellsing. She was dressed with the same green military uniform of the night they met, a formal combat cloth unlike her black suits. He noticed that she was sporting more medals and it was meant to, she was a hero of war, after all.

"You…" Anderson managed to say aloud, hoping he was not staring.

"Yes," Integral smirked down at him, ignoring Heinkel's aggressive welcome as if she did not exist, as if she was not reaching for her Desert Eagles. "Arise, Alexander Anderson," she ordered firmly, there was a triumphal gleam on her blue eyes. "As the leader of the Hellsing Organisation, it's my pleasure to welcome you to our ranks."


	2. Fallen Babylon

**Chapter Two  
- Fallen Babylon**

She had not spoken to him during the trip towards London. Integral Hellsing was absorbed by whatever was displayed on the flat screen of her laptop almost with the same concentration that matched the former priest's intense stare from his seat, separate from hers by the aisle.

The jet they were travelling in was small but not deprived of luxuries. The seats were smooth and comfortable, wrapped in red velvet - there was space for shifting them into a 'bed' for the purpose of resting. The background music was a soft classical Mozart tune and the food delivery was privileged. Anderson was offered caviar, wine, champagne and expensive pastries every time the stewardess passed over. He had taken a bite or two, still wary of what he was tasting, then felt guilty for falling into gluttony and vanity. She had declined the offerings, every single one of them and requested instead a simple cup of tea; refusing the other items as they would distract the Hellsing leader from her idle typing.

_She has cut her hair_, Anderson thought, noting the slight change of length in her blonde strands. _She used to have it past her hips and now it only reaches her waist._ As soon as those musings appeared in his mind, he was self-lectured by his own thoughts. Since when was her hair was an issue? And when did he pay enough attention to the length of it? He remembered when. She was nowhere as neatly groomed nor healthy. Even though, he recalled her in that moment more vividly than ever – face bloodied, hair ruffled, suit stained and alone, wielding a mere sword in challenge to an enemy that outnumbered her. Anderson would never forget that image of her: the absolutely fearless Protestant that he had vowed to defeat someday.

But now that promise was moot, she had destroyed him in a way. _She_ had provoked his downfall. He had turned his back to Maxwell for her sake, the chief he had followed to battle against the minions of Mars only to find out he had lied and they were killing the civilians, who heretics or not were innocent.

Enrico had cowered and hid in his own car when surrounded, the opposite what the woman did. And Anderson's reaction was also the opposite. While he deemed her worthy to be saved - shielding her body with his own; he judged Maxwell deserving of dead - throwing a bayonet to break the glass and handling him to Alucard's minions.

Judas Priest. The monster's moniker suited him perfectly.

"_If you can't defeat them, join them."_ The saying applied to his current situation. He was not certain if he could truly join her side completely, but for now, he could watch and try to guess her intentions.

"Mr. Anderson, please buckle your seatbelt," the stewardess advised, placing herself in the way - blocking his sight of Integral. "We are landing in a few minutes." He grunted in response and inclined his head before he complied. The woman moved herself out of the way; Hellsing had already closed her laptop and prepared herself for the plane's descending.

"Anderson," she suddenly addressed him. He pretended to just notice her presence, as if he had not watched her for the entire flight, and waited a second to answer.

"Yes, Sir Hellsing?"

"Once we are down," Integral said in a serious tone, "Hold me close to you and leave your luggage behind. The suitcases shall be delivered shortly to the Manor."

Anderson blinked, not quite understanding her point. To pick her up? Hold her as in embrace the woman? _What is her game now?_

"Unfortunately we are landing in the international airport and not my own pit, it is still under reconstruction," she continued, pausing as the turbulence from the wheels made contact with the ground below and shook her slightly. "I told Captain Victoria to pick us up before it's too late."

_Too late?_ He limited his answer to a nod, still not quite understanding the meaning of her words. "All right."

The Protestant knight did not add anything further to her speech; her lips however, pursed up in one of her trademark half smirks. He felt slightly nervous for a reason; he was told to hold her close, to _touch_ her. The prospect was strangely pleasant and that was what caught his attention. He was not nervous; he was anxious and waiting for the jet to finish the procedures before it stilled completely to allow them to descend. **  
**  
"Thank you for choosing our crew for your flight, Sir Hellsing," the stewardess said as the door was being opened and the stairs were placed upon the threshold. "It was an honour to have you among us. In the name of the pilot and co pilot, we wish you and Mr. Anderson a nice day."

"Likewise," Integral replied courtly, leaving her laptop and suitcase on the seat as she rose. "Everything should be delivered right away. I won't tolerate delays, Miss. Come on, Anderson. Remember what I said."

"Aye, I do, Sir Hellsing," Anderson stood, bowing to the stewardess in thanks and adjusting his shirt. The lack of a priestly collar bothered him. So many years they had spent together, to be deprived of it, he had grown more than attached. He was nude without it.

Anderson walked behind Integral towards the exit, she hesitated before stepping outside. "After you," he gestured, courteous. She was a lady and he a gentleman, it was proper.

"You are not making this easier…" Integral uttered, a resigned sigh escaped her lips before exiting. He came after her and immediately he put his right foot over the first stair; they were greeted with thousands of flashes and hundred of questions said aloud:

"Sir Hellsing, what was your purpose with your trip to the Vatican?"

"Sir Hellsing, is that the rumoured ally who betrayed the Catholic Church, Alexander Anderson, to your side? Where is his priestly collar?"

"Sir Hellsing, did the Vatican push you for the treaty of Midian? Did we need their aid for solving the infestation of the city?"

"Sir Hellsing, what about those rumours you are carrying a dhampire child? Where is the father, where is Dracula?"

"Sir Hellsing, smile for the camera!"

"Dhampire baby?" Anderson managed to utter, dazzled by the constant flashes, his poor eyes started to see the bright lights everywhere. His urge to slice the hellish machines and their owners was increasing at an incredible rate.

"No comments," Integral replied, even if her tone concealed her emotions, Anderson noted by the slight trembling of her shoulders that she was upset. He almost hoped she was angry enough to allow him to cut a thing or two.

"What about your supposedly lesbian relationship with the female vampire?" another one insisted; they were gathered around the stairs, blocking the exit. So this was what she meant to warn him about?

"I said no comments, gentlemen. And if you excuse us," Integral mockingly apologized, rising her gaze towards the darkening sky. Anderson could spot something moving across the horizon to a great speed, through the pile of smoke and the clouds. A reddish black lightening was heading towards them: Seras Victoria. "Our transportation has arrived."

_My cue. God be with me even if I cannot be with Him anymore,_ Anderson thought wrapping an arm around Integral, bringing her body closer to his. She was fragile beneath those suits and he could distinguish her hidden feminine shape by the tight contact. A cold hand reached for his left arm, he glanced and saw Draculina grinning toothily and lifting both with ease, her shadow wing batted, fluttered.

"Evenin' Anderson. Sorry about the delay, Sir Integral," Seras greeted, leaving the dumbfounded reporters behind, the insistent flashes no longer hurt his eyes.

"Damn those paparazzi, that damned yellow press is getting on my nerves" Integral sneered, "I will find out how they get my confidential schedule about my trips one day."

"The price of fame, Sir Integral," Seras commented and Anderson agreed. Integral Hellsing was a hero of war, an icon and her popularity was only increasing. "Hold my chief, Anderson. I am going to fly faster now."

"Be quick, Draculina," Anderson snarled, bringing the Protestant knight closer, eliminating the few inches that used to separate them. Her hair was on his face, blocking his sight, he was grateful that he was not aware of the height at which they were flying over the city, and aside of that, her clean smell of shampoo was a welcome change from the rotten dungeon. It calmed his urge to stab the Midian that was carrying them, not because of his wish but the insane mechanism that ruled his existence.

"There is no better way to flight," Draculina pointed out as she flew faster; he opened his mouth to complain but the pressure of the wind made Integral's hair slide inside his oral cavity, silencing him. Fuming, he spat the hair out and kept his lips tightly together.

_Divine punishment_, Anderson thought sourly, his finger absently gripped around Integral's body, causing her to flitch inwardly. The wind became less violent and the ground was getting closer and closer to them. The landing was more pleasant than the flight but it left a swirling sensation in his stomach and head. He dropped his eyelids, attempting to regain his balance.

"Here we are, mon ami," Draculina patted his shoulder, her accent shifted inwardly to French. "You may let my chief go now."

Anderson released Integral reluctantly; she seemed more unwell than himself. But she did a great job to keep her stoic face of 'I am fine' around them. "Seras… why don't you go to check about our luggage."

"Roger, Sir," Seras saluted and left. Anderson scrutinized the garden, the flowers and plants were untouched by the battle; they were neatly attended and blooming. They were fortunate.

"The assault to the quarters was in the front perimeter," Integral informed him, probably guessing what he was looking at. "Follow me; I am certain you might have guessed the reasons for your stay here."

Anderson turned around and let Integral lead him, her balance was still affected by the flight; she was not walking in a straight line. He briefly paid attention to the surroundings. _So this is the Hellsing Organisation_, he thought, watching the mix of Edwardian and Gothic structure of the parts that were not blow into pieces. He still thought the Holy See was more beautiful, less mundane, but the building had its own charm.

"You haven't answered me," Integral pointed out, opening a door to a sitting room that was unscathed from the attack. "In fact, you are unusually quiet, Anderson. Normally, you cannot stop talking or quoting verses of the Bible."

Anderson frowned slightly, "I was without company for a while, Sir Hellsing. The guards were given orders not to speak to me. I need to adapt to being around people again."

"I see…" Integral gestured for him to sit on a coach as she sat on one in front of his.

"Where is your vampire?" Anderson inquired, glancing around the room, attempting to discern his sinister presence in the shadows. Nothing. The place was clean.

"Seras Victoria is taking care of our luggage. Without Walter, she's my more trustworthy subordinate."

"The other vampire. Where is the Devil? Where is Alucard?"

Integral made a long pause, not replying to him right away. She stood and walked towards the table, picking up a pile of newspapers that were over it. "He is gone."

"Gone? He cannot die," Anderson's frown deepened, an idea crossed his mind, the mere thought dreaded his spine. "Is it true about the dhampire baby that the man asked about?"

"Of course not," the Hellsing glared at him briefly before starting to laugh. She returned to her seat and lounged on it. "The tabloid reporters love to invent the most peculiar theories. The other day they published a special report about Seras' nymphomaniac hobbies with the male staff of this organisation."

"She is a vampire, I saw the flames of hell reflected on her eyes. The press might be right, they are lascivious little things."

"Ridiculous. Seras Victoria is complete," Integral stated firmly, "She and Pip Bernadette found peace by sharing her body. She doesn't need anyone else and Bernadette is certainly _not_ attracted to members of the same gender. Trust me in this Anderson, I have never seen her so happy since the war ended, honestly content, no longer confused and hesitant…"

Anderson tilted his head, not quite understanding how vampires had a soul; let alone how two souls could share a body without enslaving each other; nor the intimacy of their bound and love. He did not give much thought either. "You said your pet is gone."

"He is," Integral nodded, her expression turned blank. "I rejected his advances and offerings. After that, Alucard simply left to give me space and time to think. I was surprised he took it well, according to him, he respects me too much to make the same mistake he did with Mina." There was a note of sadness at the end of her explanation. "He seems more sane now, the war sated him and he retired to Romania."

"So he is really free," Anderson placed a hand over his chin, repressing a shudder to think of the power Alucard possessed in the war. An entire army of enslaved souls to his command. The Devil reigned in Hell, but he was alone. At least he was not completely victorious.

"Alucard is none of your concern," Integral assured him, "I have monitored some of his activities and so far, despite how secretive he is, his behaviour is exceptional. Hellsing is ready to answer to everything he might attempt."

"This is where I enter? That is why you need me?" Anderson inquired, crossing his arms, intrigued to what she had to say.

Integral shook her head, "No, as I said, he is none of your concern. You can't slay Alucard; only I know how to destroy him. This is the reason why he never gets testy with me aside of his respect," she explained. "You really were oblivious to the world all those months, weren't you?"

"I didn't have cable in my cell, not even television," Anderson snapped, pointing with his finger to the small TV set behind her.

"Treated so poorly after so many years of faithful service," Integral said with a voice between honest indignity and a taunt. He waited for her to continue, refraining to speak further about his trial and excommunication. "You are here because I always pay my debts," she said, "And I owe you my life. And because… there is a situation that has gotten out of control in London." She passed him the newspapers, they were ordered by date.

Anderson took them and proceeded to read the headlines: "Sudden multiple heart attacks caused deaths on a train to Piccadilly." "The 'Haunted Houses' denounces are increasing." "Horror in London!" "Orphanage girl claims her dead family wants her to join them." He stopped, looking at Integral, words lost to him.

"Indeed," Integral nodded, reaching for the remote control of the TV set, turning it on. The screen showed images of a documentary about current London. Before Anderson's eyes, he saw apparitions popped out and vanished, objects moving by themselves and falling into people's heads, the moans and angry cries of pain.

"We have a plague of ghosts and poltergeists, Anderson," Integral explained, turning off the machine as her gaze met his. "The people who died in the recent war somehow had their trip to afterlife interrupted. They have stayed, restless and swearing revenge on the living. Their killing increases their ranks and they are starting to spread outside the city. Hellsing can't deal with this menace - that is why I need you to exorcise them."

Anderson could not help but cackle mirthlessly, without breaking eye contact with her. _The New Babylon has fallen. With the noise of the war, I should have missed the trumpets._

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Author's Notes: Thanks to kelles for editing this and for the feedback and reviews of all. I have revised this and the first chapter according to the events that happened in last chapter of the manga (Anderson helping to kill Maxwell, the minions impaled the archbishop (by Alucard&Integral's orders). Feedback is welcome. 


	3. Crisis of Faith

**Chapter Three  
- Crisis of Faith**

East End. The working class used to live there, the Museum of Childhood used to host activity for every child of God. It now lay in ruins; he stood among the rubble.. Anderson attempted to ignore the devastation surrounding him, the corpses of young lads and lasses that were decomposing at the moonlight without a proper burial. He focused on his prayers, on his task and on dodging the rocks and cutting items that the wraiths threw in his direction.

_"Crux sancta sit mihi lux,"_ Anderson trailed off, closing his eyes and twisting his lips in a grin. He was expecting them to come closer; he called the rain of bible pages that twirled and shielded him. _"Non draco sit mihi dux…" _

"You are no holy man to give us blessings!" He heard them shout, "God is not with you!"

_"Vade retro satana…"_ Anderson added, hesitating. They laughed and created a wind strong enough to disperse the pages that served as protection.

"The fallen can't help the fallen, sir," a little girl appeared and disappeared on his sides – flickering and fading within a blink.

Fallen. The word cut at Anderson, it was as painful as if one of his bayonet had stabbed his soul.

_I am excommunicated_, Anderson reminded himself. _Could I wield the power of God if His own vicar has cast me out of grace?_ Those grim thoughts paralysed him, his faith faltered. He used to be a fanatic in his religion, being left out, even with possibilities of reincorporating, was a great shame.

He was too distraught with his own ponderings, his own stigma to even notice the two walls that were teetering over him about to squish the life out of his body. He did realize when his feet left the ground. A chill shot through her body, the company of the undead. He looked up and growled at Seras Victoria who was carrying him away from the battlefield.

"Draculina!"

"Look down, prat," Seras growled back. "Do you want to return down there?"

Anderson glared at her intensely before looking down the spot where he had been standing. The cloud of dust vanished and he watched the two chunks of brick crash together. "No," he admitted. "They will be following us."

"The wards from Integral's ancestors will repel them as usual," Seras told him, increasing her speed suddenly. Anderson gathered she was most sensitive to the spirit's presences. He closed his eyes, mentally praying for God forgave his doubts and to give him courage to face Integral's wrath at his failure.

-----

"Another failure, Anderson," Integral stated, slightly irritated, dropping the report that the wretched she demon had given to her earlier. She pressed her lips in a thin line and stood. "What is wrong with you? The task should be easy enough for your abilities. I assumed the mishaps wouldn't repeat six times… Her Majesty is pressuring me. The rebuilding of London must begin and we cannot afford the Capital to be a bloody haunted city!"

Anderson looked at her solemnly, he had no excuses to justify his actions nor would he be so cowardly as to hide behind them. "It's my fault, Sir Hellsing. I lost the ability to wield God's grace when I was excommunicated."

"Only for that? A crisis of faith?" Integral asked, lifting an eyebrow. Her contained anger seemed to abate. She pulled out a cigar from her pocket and toyed with the stick with her hands. "Come with me."

"Where to?" Anderson rose and followed the departing woman.

She paused, turning her head and replying, "The cemetery, I need an escort and Seras is occupied with another task."

Integral led him to the Hellsing graveyard, driving carefully through the forest towards the hill where it lay. The ghosts did not frequent the woods. Anderson thought the woods must host another kind of creatures that did not welcome the spirits of the dead, but they ought to be careful. She parked the car in front of the gates and unlocked them once both descended.

Anderson grimaced at the sight of hundreds of white tombstones in front of him. His hands summoned bayonets. No one would harm Integral, she could not regenerate like himself.

"The dead are truly resting here, Anderson," Integral pointed out, "Your weapons are unnecessary."

Anderson inclined his head and complied with her unspoken request to vanish the bayonets. "The dead are haunting the living homes instead of their own," he commented, thinking the circumstances quite ironic. "You didn't bring flowers," he noted.

Integral shook her head, stopping in her path and spinning to face him. "I didn't come to visit the fallen. I brought you here to look at them." She gestured to a section of the cemetery on her left. "Those over there were Eastern Orthodox followers," her hand now pointed to the right, the fresher graves. "The Wild Geese weren't Christian at all."

"I don't understand," Anderson admitted, staring at his chief and then to the pointed directions.

"They all served a protestant organisation," Integral cleared up, smiling in his direction. "Even if they weren't members of a structured religious system, that did not mean they lost their faith. Even the pagan mercenaries had faith in what they were doing," she walked towards him, brushing his shoulder as she passed. "You should think a way to recover it, Anderson."

Anderson listened to her footsteps as she retired to leave him alone among the dead. The corpses did not speak; they were quiet as they should be, at peace. He walked through the tombstones and scanned the names of the former soldiers, the dates of death and mused on what Integral had told him. She was right, but his case was special, he was a fanatic religious and the fervour could not be sparked once more so easily.

_I have to try_, Anderson vowed to himself. Regardless of his doubts, the impotence of not being able to fulfil her commands grated him. He feared Integral would deem him useless and return him to the Vatican like a broken item - to the empty cell in the catacombs.

Far from her.

His eyes narrowed with newfound determination and turned to return towards the car, closing the gates after his exit. Integral waited for him, starting to engine when she made eye contact.

"During the war you spoke the dead should be quiet and still. You must educate them again."

"I will," Anderson smiled at her, sliding on the passenger seat. "You have my word."

-----

He felt the Draculina when she entered to the kitchen, her cold aura brought out several killing instincts that were induced from his training, yet he refrained from acting on them. He also ignored the uncomfortable sensation provoked by her staring and kept with his task – frying bread and fixing tea.

"Anderson, what the hell are you doing?"

Anderson did not bother to turn and look at her. "What does it look like?" he merely responded before arranging the bread next to the black pudding.

"Terrorizing the personnel? The cook told me you booted him from the kitchen," Seras said with a tone dripping in sarcasm. "You didn't heat me blood to drink, I am wounded."

Anderson snorted, "This isn't for you, Draculina." He returned to his task and scrutinised the tray to see if everything was on order. The pork sausages were in the same plate as the grilled tomatoes, to their right were the baked beans, mushrooms and kidneys, and to the left, several condiments, the black pudding, the butter and the fried bread. He took a teacup and put it near the steamy pot before lifting the tray. A full English breakfast. He hoped Integral would like it.

"She's in her office," Seras informed him, grinning. "Sir Integral always takes her breakfast there." Then she added under her breath something in French he could not understand except it was related to croissants.

"Thank you," Anderson forced himself to mutter and headed to his destiny. In his path, he gained a few shocked glances from the soldiers and the staff but he paid no heed to them, continuing. Upon arriving, he knocked the door and cleared his throat. "Sir Hellsing, it's me."

"Anderson?" she sounded surprised. "Come in."

Anderson opened the door, carrying the tray with his right hand. "I am sorry it took me so long."

She not only sounded surprised, she looked stunned as well. Anderson congratulated himself for baffling Sir Integral Fairbrooks Wingates Hellsing. "You shouldn't," she stated, removing the files and laptop for him to place the tray before her.

"On the contrary, Sir Hellsing," Anderson smiled kindly, "It's the least a soldier without use like me could do for his leader." There was bitterness in his words, he felt like a burden to her and it was not fair. He was aware she went through a lot of troubles and negotiation to get him out of that cell, to act as her new ace of death only to disappoint her in her goals.

"Anderson," Integral let go a sigh. "You are not useless, understand this? You are both a wonderful asset and a great conversationalist."

"They were going to bring you tasteless toast along with the tea. I thought you should eat something more nourishing," he told her, appreciating her words even if he disagreed with them. He picked up the pot and started pouring tea in her cup. "I was going to add haggis to the menu but I was uncertain if you'd appreciate a Scottish dish among the British variety."

"I must confess I never imagined you this… domestic," Integral chuckled, nipping at a sausage. "It's well done. Delicious, Anderson."

"Thank you, Sir Hellsing. You forget that I ran an orphanage and I used to help with the kitchen as well," Anderson commented, longing to see his children again. How he missed sharing his spare time with the innocent creatures he cherished the most.

"Anderson… one of your former colleagues will visit us soon," Integral informed him, opening the second drawer and pulling out a letter with the seal of the Vatican. "I got this letter early this morning."

"Who?"

"Wolfe Heinkel," Integral replied, picking up her cup of tea, blowing the steam and sipping it. "I gather that she's sent to see if you have progress in your penance," she added after taking mouthfuls of the content. "She is going to stay in the Mansion. It's dangerous to travel near the city."

"Sister Heinkel?" Anderson inquired, relieved. She was still on his side more or less. "When she will be arri-" The door opened before he could finish his question. A soldier burst in, breathless.

"Sir! There's an intruder Captain Victoria wants you to know about!" he exclaimed, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "It's a dangerous vampire."

Integral rose, leaving the cup on the tray. She closed the drawer and exchanged a look with Anderson. "Lead the way," she ordered.

Anderson's jaw clenched. He would personally put out of misery the leech who ruined his cooking's flavour. It never tasted the same cold. Integral ushered him out and he loomed behind her, anxious to make himself useful again and prove his worth.

He could still silence the noisy undead.

Anderson escorted Integral to the Mansion main threshold and surveyed the current situation. The soldiers were positioned in front of the building in a belt shield. Seras was in the middle, strangely not carrying a weapon and swirling her tendril restlessly.

_No, she had been armed_, Anderson corrected his initial observation. On her feet were the metal chunks of what remained of the Harkonnen, a clean slice.

"Sir Integral!" Seras turned around, sounding distressed. "It's a special messenger from my Master."

Anderson glanced at Integral, a shadow crossed her features briefly. She seemed agitated by something.

"Let him speak," she said icily.

"Good morning, Sir Integral," a cultured, male voice greeted her. By the accent the owner must be British. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important."

"My breakfast only. What is your business here? This is no longer your home," Integral stated with a chilling coldness. Anderson wondered what brought her sudden change of attitude.

"That's true. My new home is in Romania with my new Master, but your rudeness is appalling. I taught you better, Integral." Anderson turned to peer over the soldiers, with his height it was not very difficult to accomplish. He was intrigued by this vampire; anxious to stab him and send him to hell. His hands opened and closed.

"I am returning the manners of one who trespasses without announcing himself," Integral retorted, stepping forward. Seras immediately moved to her right and Anderson did the same to her left.

"My sincerest apologies but my Master required my messenger skills to demand an appointment with you."

"With what purpose? He shan't _demand_ anything from me."

"Why, Sir Hellsing, getting rid of your little infestation once and for all."

Anderson could distinguish the dark figure clearly now, his mouth nearly hung open from shock. No wonder the voice sounded familiar, he had known this man briefly but neither had established a conversation. Standing cloaked in black, sporting a monocle and a ponytail, there was Walter Kumm Dornez with red eyes and no looking older than thirty.

* * *

Author's Notes: Thanks to Dreadnot to edit this chapter and to all the reviewers.


	4. The Price

**Chapter Four**

**- The Price**

Anderson had spent most the day inside the library, and with the few exceptions when he had had to leave for physiological reasons or to pick a new book, he had not moved from his seat. His back and behind had grown numb - not a particular pleasant sensation, that, but he was too occupied with his reading to notice either the tingling sensation of his nerves or even when someone entered. A someone by the name of Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.

"Anderson." Her voice snapped him from the fascinating world of Latin and holy wards, and so he put down his book and stared at her. She was carrying a tray with a pot and two teacups. "You have spent days trapped inside the library. You even missed breakfast today," she said, putting down the items and taking a seat beside him. "I thought this might provide you with some energy. I don't need a weak soldier in my ranks," she explained, slightly condescendingly.

Anderson looked down, ashamed by his careless actions. "Forgive me, Sir Hellsing, I was too engrossed to realize the hour. It wasn't my intention to worry you." Then, in a gentlemanly gesture, he started to pour the tea in the cups, filling hers first and then his own. The warm liquid did relax him and it also served to comfort his spirit.

Integral let go to a light chuckle and picked up one of his books, scanning the cover. "You are reading my ancestor's books about holy wards and spells." Her intense gaze fell over his face. "Don't push this, Anderson. You'll find it more easily to succeed if you are relax. You won't find faith in books, Anderson, not even in the Gospels. That is inside."

"It hasn't worked. Nothing I do works anymore," Anderson contained his growl, his fists shook. He wanted to destroy, to tear apart, to do anything as long as it made him feel himself useful again. But his faith had deserted him. Sighing soundly, he allowed his muscle to relax and then drank his tea.

Integral offered him the book she had taken. "If that's the way of it, Anderson," she said, "After our tea, we will search the answers together."

"It's not necessa-" Anderson complained, not wanting to be treated like a clueless child. Yet she shut him with a mere look, continuing her speech.

"It's disturbing to see such a strong man in this state and I don't plan to just sit around as you fall into pieces. You are my responsibility now, a part of my organisation. And as your leader, I am expected to protect you as much as it is within my powers to do so."

Anderson stared at her, finding her expression determined and her tone firm. Her commanding voice warmed him with an intensity the tea was not able to sustain. "It's my pleasure to count on your help, Sir Hellsing," he accepted, gratefully. Maxwell had never behaved in this way towards him or any other of his fellow brothers and sisters in Section XIII.

"Finish your tea. We start afterwards," Integral suggested, drinking her own. He did and the next hours were spent researching together, translating Latin phrases and deciphering Abraham van Helsing's notes, where the sentences broke from their English and mixed with German.

Time flew as they took notes, conversing in the privacy of their study, trying to read Abraham's awful handwriting. It was so that Seras Victoria's arrival found them. She cleared her throat and knocked at the door, despite it being open. "Uh Sir?"

Anderson had sensed the vampire even before she had announced her presence, breaking his peace. He had not felt this comfortable since overseeing the classes he had offered the orphans.

"Seras? What is it?" Integral asked.

"It's Sister Heinkel, she's just arrived and is waiting for you and Anderson in the lobby."

Heinkel… The Sister had already arrived. Anderson's unease increased, a knot tied in his stomach, his face bleached. Although he knew she was trustworthy, he was also distinctly aware she was here to judge him. He loathed being judged by anyone, for he was one who should be doing the judging.

"Anderson? Are you ill? You've grown pale."

"I am fine, Sir Hellsing," Anderson assured her, standing with the resolution to face this trial as quick as possible and then continue his research. Integral rose wordlessly and led the way towards the lobby; even before they arrived to their destination, he could make out Heinkel's voice, threatening someone. She did not sound pleased.

"Get away from me, Nosferatu!"

"What seems to be your problem, Sister? We are both guests under Sir Integral's roof, and I only seek your conversation as the staff is avoiding me."

The male voice was polite, cultured with a slight malice and dripping English accent. _The former butler_, Anderson realized.

"This house is cursed. Did anyone under that witch's control fail to become a vampire?"

Anderson gnashed his teeth, though he did not know why the mere insults towards his new leader affected him so much. In the past, he would have gladly uttered the same barb…but that had been before the war, before she had displayed her worthiness.

If Integral had taken offence, she did not show it when she entered and stopped the two. "This _witch_, as you kindly put it, is your hostess and requests that you lower that gun, Sister," she ordered flatly.

Anderson surveyed the scene. Sister Heinkel was aiming one of her Desert Eagles towards the new abomination, who had his arms up in surrender, smiling in an annoyingly innocent expression. Alexander had read the file about the God of Death while he was still serving under Iscariot; had he wanted it, human or vampire, young or old, he could have sliced her revolver in a blink along with her hand.

"Sister, be reasonable," Integral tried to soothe her, approaching the pair. Seras and Anderson followed behind like faithful bodyguards. Heinkel's arm started to tremble slightly before she dropped her fighting stance.

"I don't know what happened, Sir Integral," Walter started, shaking his head condescendingly. "She wasn't nearly as violent with Miss Police Girl."

"Because that one didn't lean to sniff me all of a sudden!" Heinkel barked, surely glaring behind her dark shades.

"I was curious if you were female or male, your attire and haircut are confusing," Walter pointed out, prodding one of his fangs. "Given your… unique… scent now I am certain you can be only a woman."

Anderson could have sworn the Sister blushed in indignation or embarrassment. Maybe both. He spotted her searching for her other pistol in her trench coat.

"Wolfe," he said quickly, before she was given the opportunity to open fire. "How are you? How are things in the Vatican?"

Heinkel relaxed and holstered her gun, taking her sunglasses off. "Not good, but you must be aware of the news of international pressure." As she talked, Anderson followed Seras with the corner of his eyes, as she moved towards Walter, dragging him away to give them some privacy.

"I am. I cannot say I am terribly sorry."

"This isn't just the Vatican's problem. Without our sponsors, without our structure… the people who benefit of Catholic assistance, even your orphans, will be helpless!" Heinkel exclaimed passionately.

"Perhaps they should become Protestants," Integral said on a sadistic tone. "Now Sister, do what you came here for. Both Anderson and I were otherwise engaged upon your arrival."

"I need a word with him. Alone," Heinkel said, watching him expectantly. He nodded and looked at Integral.

"Very well. Be brief," Integral replied before leaving for where Seras had dragged the butler away.

"Wolfe…" Anderson trailed off once they were alone. She sighed and sat on one of the coaches unceremoniously.

"We miss you, Alexander. The orphans are always asking where you are. Father Renaldo is running out of excuses."

Anderson tilted his head, casting his gaze down. He wanted to see his children again, to pat their heads, to guide them on the right path. But what can a faithless man offer to his lambs? They would only stray further.

"I suppose you haven't repented," Heinkel added, looking at him as her hands searched for something in her pockets: a box of cigarettes. "I am not surprised. I warned them, but part of me was praying you had changed your mind."

"Will you return now?" Anderson inquired.

"No. I was ordered to remain here for at least two weeks and then report on the progress of your penitence," Heinkel answered as she lit her chosen cigarette, returning the box o her pocket. "I don't think it will make a difference."

Anderson shook his head, confirming her suspicions.

"How is it here? Are you forever trapped in her net of deceit?" Heinkel asked spitefully.

"If I am going to be devoured by the spider, Sister," Anderson replied, "Then the fly is more masochistic than you thought." His eyes fell to the father clock behind herl. The sun was setting. "Excuse me for a moment, Wolfe."

"Where are you going?"

"To visit a fellow Ex-Communicated Catholic and ask for his advice."

Heinkel remained speechless as he departed. He told no one where he was going with the chauffer's exception, the same who took him there: the cemetery.

The graves were quiet and the atmosphere was still, a small layer of mist starting to cover the ground. The dead truly rested there, unlike those of the city. It was peaceful and Anderson was counting to rekindle his faith somehow in their presence: among the heretics and heathens who had died for their faith. He closed his coat and walked towards the family crypt, inclining his head to the angel sculptures that guarded the entrance. The gates were closed and he knelt before them with a solemn expression.

"Of all the Catholics, you conquered the King of Vampires with the aid of a Protestant woman from these very lands," he started; it felt like a confession. "You won over your Nemesis and were Ex-Communicated for your unorthodox methods… Just like me…" He closed his eyes, musing about the similitudes between Abraham van Helsing and himself. "How did you keep your faith? For this country that greeted you despite your nationality? For the woman you admired so much?" He was asking himself, how indeed he had retained what had been taken away.

"The answer is before your eyes…" a haunting male voice replied. It was like an echo inside the crypt. Anderson was stunned for an instant yet he knew weirder things had happened. A message of the Lord was not so uncommon. "Open them."

Obediently, Anderson lifted his lids to look at the door. His gaze was returned by over twenty red eyes that popped out in the door's surface. He flinched, throwing himself backwards as a cruel laugh rang in his ears. His temper was rising, so great was his desire to destroy, to _kill_.

"Devil!" he growled, leaping towards the door. The marble was strong enough to resist his attack, his body was crushed over it.

"And hello to you too, Judas Priest," Anderson heard his voice behind him as he regenerated his jaw and bruises. He grunted and looked at the monster. Dracula was dressed with his armour still, but his cloak had changed, now of a new making of fur adorned with sparkling gems - rubies. "Or should I just call you Judas…? You aren't a priest anymore, are you?" he taunted, scratching his beard.

Anderson was ready to jump over his foe once more, all semblance of sanity forgotten but he felt his feet as if glued to the ground, shadows shackling him there firmly. "What do you want!"

"I came to visit my old nemesis," Dracula explained, unsheathing his sword and looking at him darkly. "Only to find my current one nearby." He prickled his right cheek, mirroring the scar on his left side. Before his body regenerated it, the vampire leaned and licked the blood. Anderson winced and struggled, disgusted, but shadows wrapped around his wrists and arms, holding them still.

"Don't touch me, monster!"

Dracula chuckled and leaned, cleaning the blood out of his lips. "Sour," he tasted it, "That scar shall never heal now. My saliva will keep that from happening."

Anderson tried to get away from the shadows, employing his might, straining his own supernaturally enhanced muscles. The shackles dissolved and inertia had Anderson stumbling across the cemetery.

"That will be a reminder of how impotent you are, Judas," Dracula warned, "And that you shouldn't cross my path in what I want. I won't lose the woman I most desire twice, and not to scum such as yourself."

Anderson stood, his battle lust having placated slightly, attempting to order his thoughts. Spilling his blood here was forbidden, the soil was blessed and it could disturb the resting soldiers. "I thought you had chosen new harlots already. Sir Hellsing would never degrade herself to play that part."

"Oh, I do have a new Bride, her performance is quite good," Dracula leered, smirking to himself. Anderson wondered what he was so smug about. "But I am not famous for my monogamy and…" He tossed him an issue from The Times, one that featured him holding Integral and about to be lifted by Seras. The day they had arrived in England and to find themselves assaulted by Paparazzi. "I don't let anyone best me at this game. In the end, I will be victorious-- even over you."

Agitated, Anderson saw him vanish and understood where he was heading now. Unable to call his holy wrists to take him towards the Mansion, he rushed to the car where the driver was waiting, smoking outside the vehicle.

"To the Mansion! Quick, you heathen!" he exclaimed, ushering the chauffer inside as he slid in the backseat. The drive back, in spite of how fast they were going, looked eternal. Images of what the monster would do to Integral haunted Anderson's imagination; it was his fault, he was weak, so pathetic the devil would not bother to battle him…

He descended from the car as soon the driver parked in front of the Mansion. Gunshots, he heard someone firing, and then screams. Was he so late? With a snarl, Anderson threw down the door, not bothering to open it. He was taken aback by the sight offered.

Heinkel was shooting a woman in the lobby. His jaw dropped in realization of who the other woman was. Dressed with a floating, white gown made of gauze and hissing through her fangs, Yumi Takagi dodged her former partner's bullets with ease.

_A new Bride…_ Anderson thought, disgusted. This was why Sister Takagi had gone missing, her body never found! The monster had taken her! Distracted as he was, he did not sense the two other vampires entering, breaking the fight. Draculina tried to get a hold of her sister as the former butler detained Heinkel by the waist.

"How could you!" Heinkel accused, tears came out from her eyes. "What about your God!"

"He is my Master now! Blood of his blood and flesh of his flesh!" Yumi snapped, defensively.

A new gunshot silenced them. Anderson's attention focused in the figure of Integral Hellsing, standing on the threshold between the lobby and the corridor. "Will you two be quiet? You are guests here and this behaviour is unacceptable. Do not weary your welcome," she warned.

Dracula manifested himself behind Seras and whispered something in her ear. She blanched and released Yumi, backing away from them. The former Sister licked her lips and remained at her Master's side, clearly enjoying the way he untangled her hair.

"Walter, release Sister Heinkel," Integral commanded. Reluctantly, he complied and moved away from the indignant Wolfe. Anderson was worried about her, she had been humiliated enough for a day. "This has been a long day and I will retire to bed. I suggest that you should do the same. I don't want to be woken by more of this rattle, understood?" The room was silent. "Good."

When she started her way on the staircase, Anderson gathered himself to speak with her. "Sir Hellsing, are you all right? Did he harm you?" His fists were shaking, his gloomy thoughts ceaseless.

"I am fine, Anderson. But you are hurt," Integral stated, glancing at the small wound on his right cheek. "The Count only wanted to speak to me, offering a tempting deal. He will now retire to Romania and will return in a week for my answer."

"A deal? What did he tell you?"

"He explained to me that releasing his zero restrictions and his summoning his minions provoked a disturbance in the afterlife plane," Integral cleared up, looking briefly in the elder vampire's direction. "That is why the souls couldn't reach their peace. He offered to aid them in transcending this world…"

"In exchange of what?" Anderson half demanded, narrowing his eyes. There was always a price, the demon would not be doing this freely, even if it was his fault.

"Haven't you figured that much out already?" Integral asked, arching her brow. "Me, of course, as his willing companion."

* * *

Author's Notes: Thanks Lyanna Kane for editing this and for the feedback. There is only one chapter left. To the reviewer who mentioned Walter. In volume 7, Walter became younger (around thirty years old) and a vampire, brainwashed by Millennium. Therefore he has fallen further, in this story he serves Dracula after he freed him from the Nazi control (he is still a slave) and acts more like his Hellsing: The Dawn counterpart (brash, rude, bold, rebellious). 


	5. A Kiss for Judas

**Chapter Five  
- A Kiss for Judas**

Anderson only became gloomier and unstable after Dracula and Yumi's departure on the following night; he avoided all contact, declined Heinkel's advances to converse and even the Draculina's attempts at cheering him up. For two days he punished himself for his failure through flagellation, asking for forgiveness, pleading that the Lord should guide him. Even his lashings were in vain; his skin would heal immediately, leaving no bruise behind and only twp marks marring his features: the twin scars on his face, on each side of his cheeks. Both marked two important failures in his life: one of that past before his enhancing at the hand of the Vatican, and one of the present.

He growled, frustrated. Could he not accomplish even such a task properly?

During his sessions, Anderson often heard someone's steps stopping behind his door, and when he peeked under the wood he recognized Integral Hellsing's shoes. He forced herself to remain silent, holding his breath and praying she would not see him in these circumstances. She didn't, but he knew she was not fooled, for the smell of blood and sweat had been too thick in the atmosphere to escape her notice.

Anderson thought himself pathetic and he quit the self-mutilation on the third day.

He started watching the Mansion personnel, deepening in his broodiness. He saw Heinkel bickering with the butler who had apparently taken a special interest in her, following her everywhere. He watched Draculina reading a French newspaper, smoking a cigarette with her boots on the table in a very un-lady like fashion. The mercenaries did not fear him for they had never experienced his attacks; they treated him casually like a peer whose presence was refreshing if only for his being alive. He still could not face his chief.

Seeing Integral would remind him of the fact that he had failed her, that he had lost the battle and given up. That it was _his fault_ and due to _his_ incompetence, after all, that she would have to sacrificed her humanity, her soul and her honour to Dracula. Strangely, his emotions ran deeper than having merely unfulfilled his job. His own heart ached, as if one of his orphans were in mortal peril, though not quite. Anderson was at a loss about figuring out what was wrong.

He spent more time in the small Anglican Chapel located on the third floor, sitting in the first row in front of the presiding bench. The structure was built in the modified perpendicular Gothic style, made of stone, brick and cement. The architects had employed stonemasons and steel in hidden girders supporting the slate roof that broke the symmetry composed in the rest of the Mansion. The doors and walls that connected to the inside of the Mansion were made of glass. No one ever bothered to visit it. The personnel was constantly occupied with the cleaning and required reparations, and the mercenaries were pagans and did not attend.

"There used to be a vicar," Draculina had told him, "But the poor bloke died during the war. He tried to fight the Nazis with his faith and ended up a ghoul. Sir Hellsing told me her Majesty will be sending a female priest soon, to increase the women in our ranks."

Anderson questioned whether faith had been true in that man but then resigned -- sometimes faith was not enough, and he was the living proof of that theory. He had eaten alone and very little before ascending to pray, to medicate, to ask for guidance. His mind was troubled, staring at the wooden cross in the altar, examining each detail on the surface. He missed the shuffle in the corridor outside the chapel.

"Ah, so someone is actually visiting the old Chapel. My grandfather would be proud it was not wasted."

Anderson stood with alacrity, inclining his head towards Integral Hellsing. "Good afternoon, Sir Hellsing," he choked on his greeting. "You found me."

Integral entered to the chapel, sliding the door shut behind her. "With your height, Anderson, you aren't difficult to find," she stated, approaching to his position. "Despite your efforts to conceal yourself and to avoid my company, it was easy enough."

Anderson huffed; that was her polite way to call him a big oaf. "I apologize, I didn't want to disturb-"

"Rubbish," Integral interrupted, facing him and folding her arms. Though shorter than him, her posture and dominating made her appear a giant. He grew weaker on his knees under her accusatory stare and collapsed on the pews rather unceremoniously. It was fortunate that his regenerative skills would heal the bruises down there. "You should eat more. Your body needs more energy if you even want to get out to a mission. Especially after your little sessions days ago," she scowled him, "You are disturbing me. This self-pity is wasteful, Anderson. Your brooding isn't going to attract God's sympathy, nor mine, and your flaunted woe will plain annoy us both." He felt a heat increasing on his cheeks, for she was right, his action had been less than desirable. "Look at you! You are pitying yourself again!"

"Sir Hellsing… I-"

"Quiet Alexander Anderson," Integral bristled, sitting down, holding his gaze firmly despite his efforts to cast it down. "I have _faith_ in you, if I didn't, I would have accepted the Count's offer that night. Now are you telling me you are truly hopeless? Because I refuse to believe it."

Anderson pushed the brooding aside. He was angry now, furious at his own past deeds. His hands closed in fists, tearing down his gloves by the tightness of the grip and drawing blood before the wounds could close on their own. His arms were trembling but he ceased at once when slender hands reached over his. They were smaller, thinner but their gentle hold was enough to calm the rage boiling in his veins. His eyes descended on these hands and then on her face. She was smiling knowingly; his cheeks kept flushing but not by the same reason than before.

"Have faith in me Anderson if you can't have faith in anything else," Integral said, before releasing his hands and standing. "Now, shall we go to exorcize my city and work on your anger management? Or would you prefer to stay in and sulk?"

Anderson scoffed, roughly rising after her, "I will follow wherever you lead, Sir Integral. I won't allow the Devil win the battle." He kept that in mind, as the blasted vampire's gloating face was not a sight he enjoyed to see.

----

Seras Victoria had taken both him and Integral to the centre of London as the sun had set; it was a dangerous decision to attack at night - for the poltergeists were at their most active without sunlight - but the Draculina was substantially stronger then as well. She remained behind him, guarding Integral protectively. As much as he disliked the vampire girl, he admired her loyalty to their chief.

Anderson was anxious, he had not even protested when his boss had joined the party because that would have been an insult to her determination. But as strong a fighter Integral was, she could not heal her wounds like her pet monsters were able to. If he failed…

_Focus_, Anderson self chastised as he started to withdraw his bible pages, _Have faith. _

The ghosts of Square Mile were less obnoxious than those of East End, but that did not mean they would be less vicious in battle. They approached almost shyly the living beings that dared to step in their city. Curiously, they avoided the shadow of Saint Paul's Cathedral, whose dome was half demolished.

"We recall you…" one of the wraiths murmured, his words a whisper carried by the wind. "You tried to protect us and failed…" Spite dripped his speech. "Are you going to join us willingly? Will you spread our sorrow to others?"

"We came to give you peace," Integral spoke, stepping forward. Anderson frowned, she was leaving Seras behind her. "I couldn't save you from death but I can aid you to reach salvation."

There was a faint gossip, followed by an outrageous exclamation and a piercing laugh that penetrated the ears, stunning Anderson for a moment, making it harder for him to concentrate.

"We don't need peace! We need to shed blood! To spread our pain! War for war!" a woman from the crowd cried out. "Warriors of God! Join the Legion of Dead!"

Night had fallen completely, melted light posts had been lifted to the air, thrown towards the women's direction. Seras flew to intercept them; Anderson saw her being successful with the first two but getting hit by the third, swatted towards a building violently. She collapsed motionless to the ground. Integral managed to dodge the remaining one but she was unaware of the glass shards going towards her.

"Integral!" Anderson shouted, his eyes widened, ignoring the pain of being penetrated by a flag banner on his side. Without thinking twice he extended his bible wrists and formed a shield of tick paper that retained the glass. He was at Integral's side like a lightening, furious on anyone attempting to harm her. He trusted himself with her protection, and that would not be taken away. _I return her faith!_

Shutting his eyes, Anderson extended his arms and white pages flew, covering the whole district. The bayonets came after, pinning the paper to the black stained walls of the buildings with the exception of that one place wherein Seras lay. The screams coming from the wraiths were like a sweet symphony to his ears -wicked spirits should suffer and be punished by their acts. He started to cackle, losing control of himself but stopped when Integral's hand squeezed his right shoulder.

"That's enough, Alexander," she ordered, "I promised them peace. They suffered enough already."

His features turned solemn, maniacal grin vanishing completely. Nodding to her direction, he chanted: _"Crux sancta sit mihi lux. Non draco sit mihi dux. Vade retro satana. Nunquam suade mihi vana. Sunt mala quae libas . Ipse venena bibas!"_

A soft glow expanded from their spot to the area shielded by the bible pages and in the passing moments, the light turned blindly. There was a collective anguished scream followed by a sigh of relief and then silence.

----

"You know, Anderson, you shouldn't strain yourself too much," Seras said entirely too chipper at his side. She was floating and watching over his shoulder as he finished seasoning the rack of lamb with salt, pepper and garlic, making to then place it in the roasting pan. "This week has been stressing for you, given all the exorcisms… And the chef wants to keep his job and not have to worry about a potential competitor!"

Anderson snarled, waving the kitchen knife around towards the bothersome vampire that kept distracting him from his task. She jumped backwards, shooting him one of her hellish lopsided smiles. It was not the Draculina in charge now, but her boyfriend.

"Get out before I include you and Draculina in the menu," he warned and then started to skillfully slice the carrot, onions, and the stalk of celery. He then diverged his eyes to check on the bouquetiere cooking inside the pots.

"Well, you know, man," she started without even trying to conceal the French accent this time, "You look like a housewife with that apron."

Anderson couldn't help but blush and staring down the white apron with small animal design on it. "You never cooked in your life, heathen!" he hissed defensively. "The clothes get stained and sometimes they are impossible to wash! Where I am supposed to get more outfits my size with London in ruins and the other cities so far away?"

"I prefer French cuisine," the thing said giddily. "Even if it's messy…" She turned to leave to his relief, "Be sure to invite me to the celebration dinner when you are done."

Anderson glowered; he was cooking for Integral and himself not for the tasteless monster. They deserved a good, nourishing dinner after purifying a whole damned city together. Her patience at his methods had been a reason well worth the praise.

_And a victory against the Devil_, he thought with pleasure, adding lemon juice to tender the simmered mushrooms. He heard the door open minutes after Seras had gone and he barked without turning: "What! I am busy here!"

"It's smelling delicious already, Alexander," he heard Integral commented. "The chef has reasons to fear for his job."

He spun around to face her; she was wearing the same outfit of the meeting with Maxwell in the museum except the hat. Quickly, he cleaned his hands on the apron, looking embarrassed by his previous outburst. "You look differently…"

"So do you," Integral pointed out, shooting a meaningful look to his apron, "I thought I should be wearing something special for the occasion. It is not on all nights that we celebrate such a victory together." As she approached him, his feet seemed to be glued to the ground. "I regret to inform you that the Count won't be joining us, though. Walter told me he has no business with me for now, seeing how we got rid of his blackmail possibilities. He retreated this morning after carrying the message."

Anderson snorted, "Pity, I added extra garlic to the crown rack of lamb."

Integral smiled at him, inhaling the steam coming from the pan deeply. "I can tell," she stated, "Sister Heinkel won't be able to make it either. She is missing and all her belongings have been gone from her quarters since yesterday night."

His expression hardened, smile turning into a scowl. The other night they had returned late after exorcizing the last district – West End. "Has the Vatican summoned her?"

Integral shook her head. "I just called to ask for her and they told me she was to remain for at least another week."

They stood in silence, sharing the same suspicions and the unspoken agreement that neither needed to voice.

"The Vatican will take care of it… This business doesn't concern Hellsing," Integral said to his displeasure. "But Wolfe Heinkel was a guest of my organization and the matter will be investigated thoroughly." Her reassurance soothed him, reminding why he followed her.

"Thank you, Sir Hellsing," Anderson answered, relieved by her permission.

"Integral, Alexander, you can address me by my name when in privacy," Integral corrected him. "An honour granted to a handful."

"And I will honour your request… Integral…" Anderson trailed off, hoping the heat of his cheeks and the sweat droplets starting to appear were the consequences of the increased temperature caused by his cooking.

"You earned it," Integral's smile grew slyer, a glitter appeared in her eyes. "I am glad you understood that faith was a wider word with more than just a religious application. I have faith in my men and humanity more than I do in God as an entity. That gives me the strength to see or make miracles happen. The Lord created everything after all, by making things tangible for me to believe in."

"I did," Anderson declared solemnly, reaching to hold both of her hands with one of his. "I have faith in you and your mission. I will follow you to my death," he swore fanatically. He meant it. She was a good Master to serve and also a Master that the Lord had put in his path. It was the right thing to do.

Anderson was so engrossed in his musings that he took note of her approaching too late. Her hands had released from his hold and forced his body to bend, grasping the apron. He complied, mesmerized by the expression on her face. Her expressive and determinate eyes, her aristocratic nose and her full lips… were covering his!

Gasping, Anderson pulled back after returning the kiss briefly, blushing brightly, now certain it was not because of the steam of the roasted food. "Integral!" he exclaimed, shocked. She chuckled very lightly.

"The traitorous Judas kissed his Master as he handed him to his would be assassins. Now another type of Master is kissing Judas on the lips as a prize for his loyalty," she explained before picking up a piece of mushroom and munching it. "I need to make a new call to the Vatican, Alexander. I trust dinner will be ready on time."

"A-aye, it will, Integral." Anderson swallowed hard as she departed from the kitchen. They had kissed. He could barely believe it. Despite his own awe, he had never felt such happiness since the day he had taken the Holy Vows.

"Her kiss didn't turn you into Prince Charming," a bass voice hissed in his ear, the light extinguished and shadows covering everything. "You are still a beast."

Anderson's blood boiled in recognition of the devil. He was here! Snarling, he turned around and shoved the kitchen knife, but as there was no one there, it merely struck the wall. "You-" he calmed down, controlling his temper before he could trash the kitchen. An idea occurred to him suddenly. "You lost!" he cackled in gloating triumph. "We _defeated_ you!"

"A mere battle, Judas Priest." Even if he concealed his distaste, there was annoyance underneath his tone and Anderson was loving every second of it. He was certain he was angry – after all, the vampire had yet to mock his apron. "I won two battles already."

Anderson glared quietly then, "Yumi… Heinkel… Didn't one woman suffice, you lascivious beast?"

"The little nun is passionate enough to quench my appetite of carnal pleasures for now, Judas. The priestess was a gift for Walter and… not a completely unwilling one." He laughed to Anderson's irritation. "Don't feel too comfortable with your brief victory, fallen Paladin. I will return and have you at my feet and Integral to my side as children of the night."

The oppressive darkness of the kitchen slowly disappeared along with the Vampire King's sinister aura. Anderson's breath shortened as he was left trembling in fury at the other's outrageous words. Dracula would not claim him or Integral. He would do anything to avoid beholding his gloating smirk for the rest of his days.

The door was knocked at twice. "Is everything alright, Anderson?" Draculina asked without entering, "I sensed-"

"It's fine, Draculina," Anderson assured the girl before turning to watch the roasting process. "Tell Sir Hellsing that dinner will be ready within the hour."

"Okay."

Anderson pushed aside any grim thoughts and focused on seasoning the meal instead. The jealous vampire would not ruin their private dinner. He chuckled to think of Dracula being envious of him of all people! But the brief kiss still burnt on his lips and Anderson mused if she would be angry should the Judas himself want to do the kissing next time…

* * *

Author's Notes: Thanks to Lyanna Kane for editing this piece and to Dreadnot for suggesting what dish would Anderson cook. Also I appreciate the feedbackreviewers have been leaving, any concrit about the story will be welcomed the most. The pairings (in case anyone was wondering) were: AndersonxIntegral, AlucardxYumi, WalterxHeinkel, PipxSeras. It has been a pleasure, this is the end of the story. 


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